That girl, the one without the name. The one just like us. The one whose battered body stood for all the anonymous women in this country whose rapes and deaths are a footnote in the left-hand column of the newspaper...

"In my mother's house and my grandmother's house, meals came in two varieties: Indian and English. Between these two extremes, the Indian lunches and the English dinners, lay a third path: not moderate, but iconoclastic." The joint-runner up entry i